


communication breakdown

by bevcrushers (dothraloki)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: 5+1 Things, Friendship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:22:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1578326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dothraloki/pseuds/bevcrushers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or 5 times Jim thought Spock and Bones had a 'thing' and one time they really did.<br/>--<br/>McCoy is smart enough to know that there's literally nothing he can say at this point to undo the damage; he just has to sit tight, bare face this one and hope for the best. The urge to deck Jim right in the face, however, only gets stronger as each second passes. He only resists because he suspects it wouldn't go over well with Starfleet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [COMUNICACIÓN INTERRUMPIDA](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4818611) by [dothraloki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dothraloki/pseuds/dothraloki), [KeepKhanAndKlingOn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepKhanAndKlingOn/pseuds/KeepKhanAndKlingOn)



It first happens the night before the Vulcan assembly are due to rendezvous with the senior staff on board the Enterprise. He and Spock are arguing about nothing in particular, harmless little jibes intended to get under the other's skin, pretty standard as arguments go – or at least _their_ arguments go. To the untrained ear it might seem a little hash, a little personal, but McCoy's noticed that not even the ensigns raise an eyebrow any more when they see him and Spock coming down the corridor, bickering heatedly about this and that. He supposes, begrudgingly, they've become sort of infamous.

He hates that.

“Doctor, I cannot understand your objection.”

McCoy narrows his eyes at the Vulcan. “Spock, you can't honestly stand there and tell me that you're not excited to see your people again. I'm sorry but I ain't buyin' it. You may think you're a goddamn robot but I know better than that."

Spock remains infuriatingly calm. "On the contrary, I confirm that Vulcans do not -"

"- Express emotions, yeah, yeah. You know what, Spock? I heard you the first five thousand times."

"Then why do you continue to try and provoke a reaction out of me?"

McCoy steps into the turbolift, Spock following close behind him. "Because believe it or not Spock, I think you got a heart after all."

"Is that supposed to be a reference to the Wonderful Wizard of Oz?"

McCoy raises his eyebrows at that. "I'm surprised you - bridge - I'm surprised you read it. Thought somethin' like that was a little too human for your tastes."

Spock pauses as the turbolift finally reaches the bridge and the doors slide open. He assumes his default position, hands tied behind his back, shoulders rigid. "Certainly not Doctor. I find that I can appreciate the moral of the story, if from a detached and logical position."

"Here we go again with this goddamn logic. You know if I hear that word one more time I'm gonna - "

" _Boys_ ," says a voice, and both men turn as Jim's palms land heavy on their backs. "Come on now, save it for the bedroom."

It takes McCoy admittedly a moment to process the not so subtle implication behind that comment, but by that time the damage is figuratively already done. An uncomfortable silence descends on the bridge - but a silence underscored by pretty much every member of the crew visibly trying to suppress laughter. A glance to the right shows Spock appearing impassive as always, though his eyebrows have all but disappeared under his bangs. McCoy is smart enough to know that there's literally nothing he can say at this point to undo the damage; he just has to sit tight, bare face this one and hope for the best. The urge to deck Jim right in the face, however, only gets stronger as each second passes. He only resists because he suspects it wouldn't go over well with Starfleet.

Spock breaks first, surprisingly, and in the most fiercely Vulcan way possible: “Captain, I am not sure what it is you're trying to imply.”

“Oh, nothing at all Mr. Spock, don't worry about it.” Jim smacks him good-naturedly on the shoulder, and takes a seat in the chair, approximating, what he probably surmises, a poker face. He lowers his gaze slightly, and McCoy knows instinctively to brace for the kill shot: “Bones, I'm assuming you're sticking around?”

McCoy glares at him “Actually Jim, I think I'm needed in medical.”

“I'll bet,” says Jim, but McCoy turns pointedly on his heel anyway because he's _far too old for this shit,_ and makes his way back to the turbolift. Not, before, however, seeing the outrageous wink Jim sends his way.

He makes a mental note never to leave sickbay again.

 


	2. Two

It happens again in the rec room a week after the Vulcan assembly have left. McCoy has just finished a double shift after an away mission went awry, spending six hours in surgery and another six hours tending to odd sprains and bruises. He's midway through eating a cheese and pickle sandwich when Jim arrives with Spock in tow, sliding into the seats opposite his. Jim seems to sense McCoy's bad mood; either that or it's radiating off him like a goddamn tricorder reading, because he smiles a little and says, “You look as bad as I feel.” 

McCoy grunts. “Don't you know it. Twelve hours in sickbay and now, as you can imagine, I'm up to my eyeballs in paperwork,' he pauses, glaring up at them. “No thanks to you two.”

Jim exchanges a look with Spock when he thinks McCoy isn't looking. “No major injuries?”

“None that I haven't already reported.” 

There's a few moments of comfortable silence as McCoy finishes his sandwich and immediately starts on another, and Jim taps absently at his PADD before Spock speaks.

“It has occurred to me, that this crisis is relatively similar to one that occurred upon the _USS Expedition_.”

McCoy pitches forward at this, suddenly interested. “Oh yeah, I heard about that, the Lama incursion. Much worse than this one though.” 

“Indeed the ramifications were certainly more severe.”

“Nearly two thousand casualties,” McCoy nods toward Jim, who had been looking increasingly bewildered by their exchange. “Things went wrong.”

Jim looks solemn. “Ah, I'm sorry to hear that.”

McCoy shakes his head sadly. “Couldn't be helped. They obviously had to do something, it was always just a question of magnitude. Unfortunately, they left it right to the last minute to intervene and that's why things blew up the way they did.” 

“On the contrary. It seems like it would have been a much more prudent course of action to not get involved in the first place.”

McCoy stares at him. He'd always said Spock was cold blooded but he never really believed it – not until now. “And what, just let thousands of people die?"

Spock raises that eyebrow again and McCoy fights the urge to smack him for being so obnoxiously indifferent. “Intervening not only exacerbated the situation, but also violated the Prime Directive, need I remind you?”

“Stick the Prime Directive, Spock, we're talking about human lives here. Doesn't that mean a thing to you?”

“Of course, Doctor. There were, however, plenty of alternatives that the _Expedition_ crew could have taken, seventy-eight percent of which would have been certainly more effective than their course of action. The fact that it resulted in nearly one thousand, nine-hundred and eight casualties perhaps proves this.”

McCoy runs a hand down his face, fighting himself to stay calm. The sandwich, at this point, is all but forgotten on his plate. “But see you're using the power of hindsight, somethin' that the Expedition crew didn't have. And anyway, what good is percentages and statistics when you're up against somethin' like that? You think the crew had time to sit down and work out the percentage effectiveness of different strategies?”

“Tactics is a part of basic Starfleet training.”

McCoy scoffs. “It's all well and good when you're sat in some stuffy Academy classroom but when you're out in the thick and the heat of it, it's a different thing. You oughta know that better than anyone.”

“And you ought to know better than anybody, Doctor, that when human lives are involved is it not better to err on the side of caution? To weigh up the best possibilities before acting rashly, in a way that causes more harm than good?”

McCoy is just about to stand up and tell him exactly what he thinks about a goddamn Vulcan trying to lecture him about ethics and morality, when Jim coughs abruptly. He had, for one fleeting second, almost completely forgotten about the captain, who had been sat silently watching the exchange between them, and he thinks from the way that Spock blinks suddenly, that so had he.

And McCoy, for some reason he can't for the life of him put his finger on, finds himself little irritated. “Got something to add, Jim?”

“Oh no, don't mind me,” he pauses, leaning back slightly as if deeply engrossed in entertainment. “Please, you two, carry on.”

McCoy meets Spock's gaze and holds it for just a beat longer than he means to, and when he tears himself away he can almost feel the shit-eating grin on Jim's face. He clears his throat. “Actually, I think I'm gonna turn in early if you fellas don't mind. It's been a long day.”

Spock hesitates slightly before rising to his feet. “I think I will also return to my quarters and meditate. Goodnight, Captain.”

Jim says nothing and McCoy's not exactly sure how, but that's somehow the worst thing about it. And when they both leave, McCoy, in spite of himself, makes a show of turning and walking the opposite way.

He's not sure who's sake he's doing it for.

 

 


	3. Three

"It's suicide. Jim,” McCoy's saying before the words have even left the Captain's mouth. “As your CMO I strongly recommend against it, and as your best friend I have to say, are you out of your goddamn mind?”

McCoy's getting really tired of having to do this. If it wasn't for the fact that as a doctor it was his duty to stop his Captain from throwing his life around every single time he felt like playing the hero, he'd give up altogether.

“Noted, and noted, Dr. McCoy,” Jim says and McCoy sighs heavily, because he's still got that look in his eyes, that look that means 'I'm not listening to goddamn word you're saying, Bones.'

“Look, think about the crew. You're the captain of this starship, Jim, you can't just throw yourself into the firing line every time things start getting heated. These people look to you for guidance.”

Jim's all brown eyes and sincere smiles, and he should have known better than to think that would work on him. “I know, and that's why I have to do this. How can I ask my crew to sacrifice their lives if I'm not willing to do the same?”

“Yeah, well I'm not agreein' with you. Mr Spock, how about you?” says McCoy, nodding to the figure that had just arrived in the doorway.

Spock is stoic as ever, hands tied behind his back as he walks over to stand next to them but McCoy notices the slight twitch in his jaw; Spock might like to pretend as if he hasn't any emotions, but McCoy knows worry when he sees it.

Jim looks up at the Vulcan expectantly, and McCoy thinks he must be a spectacularly poor judge of character if he thinks for a second that his first officer is going to agree with him.

And true enough, Spock surprises exactly nobody by saying: “I would have to agree with the good Doctor here.” Except, McCoy's mind blanks momentarily, because ' _the good Doctor'_ is something he doesn't often hear from Spock. He wonders what he did to earn to the term of endearment.

Jim pretends to look put out. “Not you too, Spock.”

“Captain, as your first officer, I must tell you that I strongly recommend against this course of action. It is reckless and you almost certainly will be fatally injured.”

McCoy grins. “See, even Spock agrees with me.”

“I liked it better when you two were arguing,” says Jim. “Look, I understand your worries but I'm going and that's the end of it.”

“Jim -”

“And that's the end of it, Bones,” Jim says again, firmly. He moves to leave but hesitates slightly at the door, looking back at them. “But I appreciate the concern, Mom and Dad.”

McCoy's mouth snaps shut. Spock opens his mouth to speak but wisely decides against it.

\--

In the end, Jim, by some goddamn miracle, comes back with only a few scratches and a mild bruise. He smiles up at McCoy in sickbay once he's been cleared. “Hope you and Spock didn't miss me  _too_ much.”

McCoy grunts noncommittally.

 


	4. Four

The wedding is something McCoy has, to tell the truth, been looking forward to all month. In fact, when he found out the Enterprise was docking on Earth he'd put in the request straight away. Weddings weren't usually his scene but he had promised Sutton all those years ago, and in all honesty, it couldn't had come at a better time: as a Doctor he knows what stress does to a person, and as CMO on board the Enterprise, he knows that _he_ has a lot of it.

It'd been hard to persuade them all to come. Scotty and Spock, had, funnily enough, not been the problem, but Jim was stubborn and he couldn't be forcibly persuaded (read: bribed or threatened), so McCoy had been forced resorted to good old fashioned needling. In the end Jim had given up when McCoy reminded him of the twenty-seven, no twenty-eight times he'd saved his life in the last two years alone, and surely, surely Jim could do this one thing for him?

Except he hadn't known what he'd been messing with, because Jim had got his comeuppance, and he'd got it good. McCoy doesn't know how it all happened, one minute he was sat eating cake with Christine Chapel and Lieutenant Uhura, and the next minute he'd been pushed onto the stage with an armful of Vulcan. And Jim is now, of course, laughing at them both. McCoy thinks he'd like to punch him later, but first, he supposes, he'll have to deal with this situation because Spock has gone completely rigid, a mask of calm sliding onto his face, and how had it come to this: dancing with a stiff Vulcan at a wedding?

He mentally chastises himself over that spectacularly poor piece of wording, and then he promptly pulls himself together.

“Alright let's get this over with. You know how to dance, right?”

“I apologize Doctor, there were not many formal dance classes on Vulcan,” says Spock, voice tight.

“I can imagine. Look, put your arms on my shoulder, like this. No – like this, hold on properly,” McCoy wraps his arms around Spock's waist all the while resolutely ignoring his face. “Follow my lead.”

Spock is about as good as dancing as McCoy supposes any Vulcan would be: that is, not very good. He's stilted and awkward, rhythm completely off, but they manage to stumble through one song. Then the music shifts to something like a waltz, and McCoy leads them both smooth and easy. Spock is better at this, he thinks. Not great, but better.

“Are they still watching?” McCoy says, mostly to break the silence.

“The captain, Lieutenant Uhura and Ensign Chekov are,” says Spock. “But they have all stopped laughing.”

“Well, I suppose that's better than nothing.”

“Indeed.”

McCoy finally meets Spock's eyes, and is startled to see something like a ghost of a smile on his face.“Hey Spock, you're not all that bad at this.”

“You are a good teacher, Dr. McCoy,” says Spock.

“Leonard,” McCoy corrects him. “We're not on duty and we're dancin' with each other, Spock. You can call me Leonard.”

Spock purses his lips. “Very well. Leonard.”

“Better,” says McCoy, Spock smiles back – a proper smile now, secretive and small. It's a look he's rarely sees on the Vulcan, but McCoy thinks it suits him.

And wow, McCoy must be a lot more buzzed than he thought, because his stomach flips, and his breath is caught tight, and he feels warm – too warm. He let's go of Spock's arms, stepping back a little. “Uh, it's getting a little hot in here for me. I'm going out to take a breather if you don't mind.”

“Not at all. I should like to accompany you.”

“You sure about that? I'd hate for you to miss the party.”

“Do not worry yourself,” says Spock, his tone playful and easy. “It will not be a huge inconvenience to spare ten minutes or so.”

–

Jim finds them outside an hour later, sat on the hill outside the main tent, looking out at the stars. They're not arguing, which is staggering to him, but they're also not talking about anything in particular, just weaving in and out of idle conversation, mostly just enjoying each other's company.

Jim watches Spock say something in a low tone, something he doesn't quite catch and Bones choke on a mouthful of whisky. He sees the amusement on Spock's face that he tries (and fails) to hide, and then Jim turns and walks right back into the tent again.

For once, he thinks, he won't say anything.


	5. Five

It had happened so quickly, too quickly, Spock had barely even seen it. The doctor had been stood next to him, checking the tricorder readings and then -

He stops, there is no logic in trying to correct a mistake that had already occurred, now he has to alert the sickbay and prepare Dr. McCoy for immediate transport.

He beams up himself, an hour and thirty minutes after that, once the threat had been neutralized and the aliens had been satisfied in the knowledge that any violence that had occurred was the result of a simple misunderstanding. He had made sure the rest of the landing party returned safely to the Enterprise first, because those were his duties as first officer, though truthfully, he'd had to remind himself of that. As soon as the walls of the Enterprise materialize around him, however, he's stepping off the platform and walking hastily down to sickbay.

Spock had seen it happen before of course, serving aboard the USS. Enterprise meant you saw and experienced a fair deal of accidents, many of which had also involved the CMO, but something was different about this. Another variable, his brain supplies,: his own presence. It is not logical to guess 'if's' or 'might haves', all he had was the evidence: he had not acted and as a result, the doctor had taken the brunt of the attack.

Dr. McCoy is lying on one of the beds, stripped out of his science blues and down to his black undershirt. There is a sizeable hole ripped around his abdomen where the blast had occurred. Instead of the deep gash and the copious amount of blood however, there was now a neatly stitched line. Spock isn't sure why he is surprised that doctors had operated already, it is, after all, only logical.

“He's been out the whole time,” the captain's voice comes from somewhere next to him; Spock starts and curses himself inwardly for not paying attention to his surroundings. The captain, had he noticed, respectfully does not mention it, instead he pulls up two chairs next to the cot, taking one of them and gesturing for Spock to take the other. “Dr. M'Benga says that they got most of the material out, but it had already got into his blood-stream by then. They had to stop the bleeding so they stitched him up and they're flushing out the nanotoxins.”

Spock says nothing for a moment, and then: “How long will he be comatose for?”

“The doctor says at the very least, a week,” he pauses, a strange looks comes over his face. “He _will_ be okay, Spock.”

“Of course,” says Spock, mostly because that is what he is supposed to say. “It is not a particularly risky procedure.”

“Right. He'll be back before you know it. Cursing you and all of us for letting him sleep so long when he has work to do.”

Spock lets a slight faint smile pull on the corner of his mouth before he schools his expression back to carefully blank.

The captain claps his shoulder and stands, turning to leave. He frowns once he realizes Spock is not following him. “Mr Spock?”

“Captain, I should like to stay for a little while.”

Something like comprehension registers on the captain's face. “Of course, Mr Spock,” he says. “And I shouldn't have to tell you this, but _it is_ truly not your fault.”

He says nothing as he watches the captain leave, but then turns to look back at Dr. McCoy's comatose body. “Leonard would say the same thing.”

–

Over the next two weeks, the Spock spends most of his time, when he is not on duty, arranging the duty-roster, meditating or sorting through paperwork, by the doctor's bedside. The captain, thankfully, says nothing.

When Dr. McCoy finally opens his eyes, Spock is the first thing he sees.

“How long I been out?” He croaks.

“Two weeks and one day.”

“Damn.”

 

 


	6. Six

McCoy is angry.

Or perhaps that's something of an understatement; more accurately, McCoy is furious. Chair kicking, table smashing _furious._

And that damn Vulcan, cool as a goddamn cucumber, not even an eyebrow raised . He just stands there and watches McCoy seethe.

“Look,” his voice shudders with the effort of trying to keep calm. “I am tellin' you now, as your CMO, don't ever do that again.”

“And as first officer, I cannot comply with that order.”

“Damn it Spock!” says McCoy. He steps away, trying to put space between them, because he really needs to _think -_ process this whole thing, and he can't do that with Spock staring at him, impassive and indifferent as ever. “I don't want you to that for me, alright? I'm a big boy, I can take it, you cannot throw yourself in front of phasers, bullets, whatever, when I'm in the firing line. Got it?”

“I am a Vulcan. I am physiologically stronger than you and easier to withstand more damage.”

“Yeah, you're a Vulcan, you're not indestructible!”

“Neither are you.”

“I'm trying to be reasonable -”

“And failing at that.”

McCoy stops, pressing the balls of fists to his eyes. “The point _is_ , Spock, you don't get to make that decision, alright? This - sacrificing your life for mine, it's not gonna work for me.”

“It is logical that -”

“Don't talk to me about logic!” McCoy whips around, glaring at him. “I am a doctor; two millimeters to the left and I would be talking to a goddamn body in the morgue right now!”

“The fact is, doctor, I am alive. And so are you.”

McCoy takes two strides towards him and Spock doesn't even flinch. “ _This_ time. _This_ time we both come out alive. You can't know that'll be the same outcome every time you decide to play the dashing hero. You have to understand I  _can't let that happen._ "

Spock simply looks at him, eyes dark. He's aiming for detached, McCoy thinks, but he's missing by a long-shot, because all McCoy can detect is something like hunger, like _lust._ That Something, the Something from the night of the wedding, lurches in his stomach again, turns his palms sweaty and it's then he realizes, somewhat belatedly, that he's wandered right into Spock's personal space.

He tries to step back - give the guy some space - but Spock's hand catches his wrist, holds him steady. McCoy stares down it.

“Why did you do that for me, Spock?” he says, distantly aware of how rough and husky his voice sounds. He doesn't care either way, he needs to know the answer. “I'm only your colleague, you don't even like me most of the time.”

Spock, growls, actually _growls_ , and pushes McCoy against the table, crowding him. “True,” he says, and his voice is deeper than McCoy had ever heard it before; it sends an anticipatory jolt through him. “You are infuriating. Sixty-three percent of our communication consists solely of arguments. But you are not,” he pauses leaning forward, mouth inches from McCoy's, “just a colleague to me.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, and then Spock unexpectedly releases McCoy's arm. “You should go Doctor, if that is what you want.”

“No,” he says, immediately, easy, and Spock's eyes widen, just for a second.

And then he's pulling McCoy in by his science blues and kissing him, and it it isn't at all what McCoy had expected, because Spock kisses fierce and passionate, like he's trying to commit it all to memory. McCoy's hand is in his hair, pulling at the strands, trying desperately to mess up that infuriatingly precise haircut and Spock's answering groan is, he suspects, completely inadvertent. But either Spock doesn't notice or he doesn't care, because he's crowing against the doctor further, forcing him to perch on the table, knees between the Vulcan's legs, and knocking over several beakers in the process.

Experimentally, McCoy runs a hand over the back of Spock's because he's sure he read something about this, and sure enough Spock bucks up, breaking the kiss to regain his composure. So McCoy, naturally, does it again and Spock _keens_ and McCoy thinks this is how he dies.

But then the Vulcan is tracing his mouth with his tongue, teeth nipping on this bottom lip and know McCoy _knows for sure_ this is how he's going to go out: kissed to death by a goddamn Vulcan. And then he stops thinking altogether because Spock starts on his neck, drawing a line of searing half-bites, half-kisses from his collarbone up to his earlobe.

“Tell me Doctor,” Spock is saying in a low voice, face buried in the side of McCoy's neck, as his fingers deftly unzip the front of McCoy's pants. “This is what you want, yes?”

“Yeah,” he's panting and he's still panting it when Spock undoes his own zip and wraps a hand around them both. McCoy's head hits the wall and his arms clinging to the Vulcan's shoulder, as Spock kisses the side of his neck, whispering words he doesn't recognize, word he guesses, are probably Vulcan.

“Please, Spock,” McCoy hears himself say, and Spock's hand twists slightly on the upstroke and then he's falling over the edge, throwing his head back. Spock follows after him, sound muffled by McCoy's shoulder.

A moment passes in silence as the doctor tries to get his breath back, before gently shifting Spock off him to grab a cloth.

“You realize I'm going to have to sterilize this whole goddamn place, now,” says McCoy, and the Spock's lips turn up at the corner slightly.

A beat passes. It's now or never, the doctor tells himself.

“So,” he says, moving to stand beside Spock, once they're both cleaned and zipped up. He sounds nervous, and he feels nervous, even though just a moment ago he was anything but. “What... is this?” He gestures between them.

“What do you want it to be?”

McCoy thinks for a moment. “I hope you don't think this means I'm gonna stop arguin' with you.”

Spock raises an eyebrow. “Doctor, I would not dare to dream it.”

 


End file.
